Apocalypse and Renaissance
by Kvetching Canoodle
Summary: At age fourteen, L saves Light from a kidnapping conspiracy. At age seventeen, they work together to solve a murder. And, when the find a time, try to figure out the difference between ending and rebirth. L/Light.
1. Chapter 1

So, I promised myself I'd finish my first story before starting any others, but the idea refused to leave me alone. And as it's finals week, who am I to deny the chance to get something out of my head?

AU.

**Warnings: **OOC in the beginning, but then he changes to similar to how he is in the manga/anime. Just he's not Kira. And an incorrect location as to his childhood living situation, but there's a reason. Also rape.

**Note:** I'm perfectly aware that L's speech is wrong. I'm also dyslexic, so while the writing is good, the chance of typos isn't exactly nonexistent. And my roommate happens to be snoring. Kill me?

Disclaimer: only own what you don't recognize.

.

When Light wakes up, he can't see a thing.

For a moment, he panics - he can feel the concussion and I've gone blind, he thinks. Then he registers the rough cloth of his face. It's backwards, but he calms in a little, comforted in the knowledge that he's been blindfolded because this means someone hasn't gauged his eyes out. Who this "someone" is, he doesn't know, he remembers what he can now. The ineffective hit on the back of the head, the fabric pressed to his face. He never saw who the attacker was, which is bad, but his dad will find him. Often, the man is absent, but there is no way Light can go long without rescue.

Or maybe that's the concussion talking. Light is an optimist by nature despite his studies and personal experiences saying he shouldn't be. But he's a week away from turning fourteen and this is expected.

So he is.

A person suddenly says in English, "The kid's finally awake."

Now is the first time he notices the scratchy feeling of tight rope around his wrists and the pain in his shoulders from having them pulled backwards. He's sitting on what feels like wood. The optimism cracks a little already.

"Took him long enough," answers a man with a considerably gruffer voice. A calloused hand grasps his chin, yanking his face up with a swift movement. Light expects the blindfold to be taken off, but it stays firmly in place. "I was starting to think we'd be stuck here forever. The others didn't take this long. This means we can leave now, right?"

There's a pause where one of the men must've used a form of nonverbal communication. "Enjoy your stay, Yagami," says the first person, followed by the shuffling of footsteps and the slam and locking of a particularly heavy door. Instantly, the silence sets in.

When the panic begins to build, he forces it down. Gets himself to think logically. Without his sight, it's hard to determine much, but he does what he can. What he comes up with isn't anything substantial.

He's in a room, blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. The room's floors are stone but the walls feel like brick or stucco. There are at least two captors, if not more. One of them said "the others didn't take this long," implying that Light isn't the only kidnapped. Awake not even five minutes and they left. For a moment he listens for any hint of a sound, but hears nothing. It's completely silent. He tries to wiggle away from the wall and makes it a good foot or two before he flops sideways, narrowly avoiding hitting his head again. So he's probably drugged too because it isn't until now that he feels the bruises on his body and his mind is foggy even for a concussion.

At least his ears aren't bleeding.

It's a struggle, but he forces himself up and back against the wall where he can be supported. What he wants is to take the blindfold off, but in his current situation, he doesn't know how. What are their motives? he wonders. Who are "they" in the first place? Where is he? All are good questions.

And none of them come with an answer.

.

It's silence that gets to him more than anything else.

In a sick way, the confinement he can deal with. The bound hands, the blindfold - inconvenient and annoying, yes, but that alone shouldn't inhibit his ability to think. The silence, though, is sickening. It causes a humming in his brain worse than his concussion, lets horrible thoughts surface and panic to form and becomes harder and harder to stop from speaking out loud just to break it. To get the silence out of the air and the silence out of him and get his full cognitive functions back.

As a kid, he hated noise when he was reading or studying but when he thinks about it, there was always something to hear. Sayu laughing with her friends, activity on the street below his window, Mom baking downstairs. Always something. Now there's nothing. Logic says that this should make his breathing sound louder, but he can't even hear that. It's like someone stuck the world's best earmuffs on his head along with the blindfold, but he knows that isn't possible because he hear the kidnappers talking to him clearly.

And the silence slowly begins to take hold.

.

"So this is the last kid in our line-up," says an entirely different voice than before after what feels like forever of being trapped in that silent room. Light's eyes are still blindfolded, he's dizzy from how little food and water he's gotten, and his arms ache. "Light Yagami, age fourteen, from Osaka, Japan. Say hi, Light."

He stays silent. Over the past...however long he's been alone, he's decided that this must be on a large scale and cooperating isn't such a good idea. And he will probably regret this decision like hell, but it might be easier for his dad to find him, which is a hope he desperately clings to. They're still speaking English and considering that they've never switched to Japanese around him, odds are they know he can fluently speak it.

"What are you, kid, mute?"

Still, he stays silent, and looks in the estimated direction of the one speaking, wishing his blindfold was off so the man could see his glare. Either way, he's sure his contempt is obvious to whoever's on the other end of the camera feed and definitely to the ones actually in the room.

"We'll contact you in a week. You have three months."

Through the lightheaded feeling and fading concussion, Light tries to process what he knows. The man gave no reason, so it must've been given at some prior point. "Last kid" again implies that there are at least two other hostages, if not more. His name, age (since they said fourteen, at least six days have passed), and location down to the country was given and everyone's spoken to him in English, which means this is at an international level. The recording was short and they didn't force him into doing anything, so whatever signal is being used must be traceable. This is good.

Next week, he'll time how long it takes. Whatever communication comes after, he'll try to drag it out.

Suddenly there's a hand in his hair, pulling him to his feet and at this point in time, he can still support himself. The second voice he'd heard his first day here says, "Think you're clever, kid? Not saying anything like that?"

Again, he says nothing but at the blow to the stomach followed by the subsequent letting go of his hair so that he tumbles backwards is enough to force him to let out an undignified squeak. His abdomen is on fire and though he tries not too, he curls up. Someone in the room lets out a sound of frustration before arms reach down, picking him up and he's too dazed to struggle. That single hit took a lot out of him, which speaks volumes about how weak he's getting here. At least there's no stereotypical laugh.

Then he gets dragged backwards until he's literally thrown, landing in a heap on stone floor, and hears the door shut behind him.

.

Halfway across the world, L sits crouched in front of his computer, the TV behind it playing the newest footage of the kidnapping, split into six sections, each showing a different child. All are from one of top six world superpowers. Four were girls, two boys. Alice Darnton, age fifteen from England, daughter of a Parliament member; Jordan McKinley, age ten from America, daughter of a New York Senator; Cosette Sinclair, age thirteen from France, daughter of a high ranking French military officer; Mei Cheung, age twelve from China, daughter of a high ranking Chinese military officer; Pasha Ivanov, age sixteen from Russia, son of a Russian ambassador. All are in various stages of begging their parents to come save them, to give into demands, crying helplessly. Normal. Expected.

But then there's the sixth, the one in the bottom right of the screen. The younger of the two boys. Yagami Light, age fourteen, from Japan. He looks small for his age, much too thin, and the only one still blindfolded. His hair is messy and dirty and he holds himself like he's in pain. Everything is bleached of color, including his lips which means he's close to fainting. He hasn't said a thing, hasn't cried. Last time - the second airing and first time L joined the case - he'd been kicked pretty hard for not saying anything and the bruises on the skin that he can see prove that he's dealt with much more. Today marks the fourth week of the children being there and Light's lip is bleeding.

The disembodied voice asks the boy, "_Ready to say something_?"

There's a pause, another kick in the side and though Light doesn't scream, his body goes rigid. Who delivered the blow is off camera, hidden. The minute they use to keep filming is almost up. Any minute now the kid's father will get through to him because Yagami Soichiro is the only one he feels justified in talking to. Everyone else's children look worse for wear, but definitely not tortured or even starved. Not like Light who, according to his father, happens to not be mute.

Then, suddenly, "_Yeah, I would_." Few things manage to surprise L, but hearing the raspy, accented voice of the silent hostage speak really does catch him off guard. He glances at the time and sees - well, he sees something _genius__._ Perfectly timed _and _in English. Apparently the kidnappers are just as surprised because the camera doesn't shut off. "_Dad, I'm somewhere where it rains_ -"

"_Oh, shit_!"

There comes a fumbling sound and a tall figure steps in between Light and the camera, back facing the screen, and everything goes dark. The last thing L hears is a sudden scream, cut off abruptly. His entire body is shaking and when the call comes from Yagami, he hits the button to answer faster than usual.

He says in Japanese, "Your son is brilliant, Yagami-san," and the upset look on the man's face doesn't fade. "He kept the video going just long enough to trace the signal."

"I know," says Light's father, running his fingers through his hair. "Just, God, what are they going to do to him?"

Normally L doesn't show much compassion or sympathy, but he decides not to answer with the suspected truth. "We're getting closer thanks to him," he tells him instead. Five other calls are trying to get through, but he ignores them. The sound of scream won't get out of his head and he really does have to wonder what the men are doing to the kid. "Exact position cannot yet be determined, but it's somewhere in the northwest part of North America."

Obviously trying to keep calm, Soichiro asks, "How do you think he knows it rains?"

"That also cannot be determined at this time. I will contact you soon, Yagami-san."

They exchange goodbyes and L closes the call, still ignoring the others, and tries to access the information.

Six children from six superpowers, kept somewhere in the northwest of North America where it often rains. The kidnappers' demands in return for the hostages is for the UN to repeal the bill allowing peacekeepers to use force in self-defense, which isn't going to happen because six children is not enough to sway an international decision. They also made it clear that they are not perpetrators of genocide, but rather believe that those who carry the name "peacekeepers" should not be allowed to use violence. So they fight violence with violence.

L always has had a special hatred of hypocrites.

And now this new information and the boy who delivered it. If not for Light, L wouldn't have even been interested enough to join the case because he purposely tries to avoid those that involve children. Young ones are a weakness for him that he doesn't like. But then he saw that first message and Light's blatant glare suddenly turned it into something too fascination not to get involved in. He's a genius, according to his father, and now he sees it. A kid like that shouldn't have to die.

.

For a moment, Light is confused as to why the binds on his wrists are cut. Then he's thrown to the ground. The weight of one knee lands on his chest and the other one on of the arms. A hand holds down the other one and though he's becomes apathetic to terror over the past however many weeks, he feels it come back full force now.

"You're such a _fucking idiot_, kid," says the man above them and Light's body spasms under the weight of the knee on the rib cracked not even ten minutes earlier. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"Don't kill him," says someone else who recognizes as the one who does the filming. "We need him for another two months."

_Two months. _It feels like he's been here forever, not just four weeks. "We could use him," comes a third voice and his breath catches in his throat. Use him? What does that mean? "I told you three months was too long. But _no, _you just -"

"Oh, shut up. None of us exactly expected it take this long."

The pressure on his chest is suffocating, but they're talking as if he isn't here at all. This leaves him somewhere between insulted and relieved.

The second person says, "Let's just use him to speed up the process. That L guy is working on the case now, I don't think anyone wants to see this kid get hurt. Besides, if he dies then we martyr him."

Get hurt? Oh, God. He doesn't like where this is -

"We restart the feed tomorrow."

The pressure leaves arm and chest and he doesn't feel anyone bend down to retie his arms, which is strange.

The first voice tells him, "Don't bother untying the blindfold. You've had it on for four weeks and the light in here is bright. You'll go blind."

Then the door is shut and Light is plunged back into the silence.

.

On the first day of April, L narrows down the location further, speaks with the other five captive's families, and gets the shock of a lifetime.

He's with Quillish, examining the evidence when the monitor blinks an alert. It hasn't been a week yet, which can't mean anything good. So he turns on the TV and is instantly greeted with the normal sight - Light blindfolded, shrouded in darkness. Except not really the normal sight at all, because it's _only _Light and rather than being by himself, there's a masked man holding him, and his arms aren't tied.

The one holding the boy says, "_You've been taking to long. We've decided to give you a little incentive_."

Behind him, he feels Quillish tense and he hits the answer button the moment Yagami calls.

"Are you seeing this, L?" the man says. His face is white, his tone shaky. On the screen, the man holding Light forces him to extend his arm and someone else has reached out, pressing a scalpel to thin appendage. The boy doesn't scream, but his body goes rigid. "Raito!"

"They're in Alaska," he answers, wide eyes also transfixed on the screen. The scalpel moves, and the kid's getting attacked from every direction. For all L has seen in his twenty-one years of life, he's never actually watched anyone get tortured. When Light's stabbed in the stomach, he finally screams. "Where, I don't know, but that's a starting point. I'll contact the American government."

"_You have one week._"

The connection goes dead exactly two seconds before it could become traceable.

.

For Light, things derail pretty quickly.

He's left alone, suffering in the silence, cut and bleeding and nothing but the stomach wound's been treated. His breathing is shallow. Taking off the blindfold doesn't even cross his mind; he's become used to his sightlessness.

No one brings him food or water anymore, though he knows more than a day has passed. It's so quiet it _hurts_ and that combined with the pain makes his sanity begin to slip. He's forgotten how to speak, how to see - too tired now to even be afraid. His last coherent thought left is _I won't cooperate. _

_._

Once sound comes back, so does sanity. And of course it's at the worst possible moment.

Whoever is restraining him is different than last week, the arms thick with gloved fingers. He feels like he's bleeding from just about everywhere, but there's no way because the camera can't be on for more than a minute. They've given L three days to find them and the UN three days to repeal something that Light still doesn't know or the six of them are going to die. Six. There are six of them. Since all thoughts of being found have shattered, he at least hopes no one else went through this. Getting torn to pieces, beaten up, held under water until he was sure he'd drowned.

All to get him to talk to a camera. Not to give information. Just talk. Too bad Light seems to have forgotten how to use words.

Someone patches up a wound on his shoulder, shouts something that he doesn't register. It's not quiet but the silence is creeping back anyway. It's like he's air, floating and thrashed around and when he faints, he isn't particularly surprised.

.

There's a gun to his head. He can feel it without actually touching it, his sense of touching having gotten so sensitive. But the silence has turned him apathetic again and he doesn't feel afraid. If it's the third day and no one's found him, that's okay. One gunshot to the head, pretty instantaneous, can't hurt all that bad, can it? At least this way the kidnappers won't get what they want. All he really wants is something to drink, like water or green tea or apple juice.

"Are you ready to talk, kid?"

He doesn't answer, doesn't even understand what the man said. His mind's gone blank and he can't remember English anymore. His mouth is too dry to talk. The silence swallows the voice whole and goes back to suffocating him. It's grown hands and those fingers are wrapped around his neck.

Suddenly cold metal collides with his temple, snapping his head and shocking him out of it for a moment. He can hear his own ragged breath, feel his entire body's dull ache of pain. The barrel of the gun is pressed right up to his new bruise, hurting him. Hurting him a lot, actually.

"Are. You. Ready. to. Talk."

He shakes his head because that doesn't take words but still gives an answer. Not that he wants to answer - he just doesn't want this stalemate to last forever.

Suddenly to gun goes off, but it doesn't hit him, shot past his head. He jumps at the sound and feels it graze his shoulder, more pain to add to the pain. He feels the blood ooze.

"Next one will be you."

When he still doesn't answer and the sound of metal clatter against the floor, he jumps again. The sounds scare him, but they aren't silence. He's yanked forward by the shirt, pressed up close to the one who held the gun and then there are _hands. _

"Oh, fuck you."

Light screams so loudly that the guard outside and Cosette Sinclair the room over can hear. He struggles and begs and sobs and this is a thousand times worse than anything. The confinement, the beatings, the sense deprivation, the mock execution, the _silence_; all dull in comparison. For all his vast intelligence, the idea of this possibility never crossed his mind.

After it's over and he's made somewhat decent again for the camera, he's curled up in a ball crying. His insides feel replaced by tar. The man takes him by the back of the head and gives him a rough kiss. He turns and throws up nothing but stomach acid.

"You're good kid. Maybe I'll keep you around."

And Light contemplates how easy it would be to bite his tongue and drown.

.

The next broadcast is what causes L to make one of the most rash decisions of his life.

Something's different than before. Again, it's just Light and he's being supported and covered in blood but...it's different. He's shaking. There are streaks through the blood on his face that look like tear trails. He'd been crying. Yagami Soichiro is already online with him, as L had just given the American government the information necessary to remove the children.

"_Say hello to your dad, Light_," says the man holding him with mock-intimacy before reaching up and brushing away some of the boy's hair from his face. Light's entire body tenses further. "_C'mon, just two words. You can do it._"

Barely above a whisper, Light says, "_Otōsan o tasukeru,_" and the boy's father makes a sound in the back of his throat. Quillish stands next to him and gives L's shoulder a small squeeze, and he knows what he means.

Even if when they do get all the children out, they won't win. They can't now because it doesn't matter about the mental state of the others. They've all cried and begged and sniffled and have had _nothing _more horrible than the what situation already has already done to them. Light, on the other hand, went through hell and never spoke a word. Until now. And worse yet, the word was "help."

L doesn't often feel compassion or sympathy but there's something so utterly heartbreaking about this whole matter that he does anyway.

"I gave the American government the location, Yagami-san," L says in Japanese as the broadcast goes dark. "I'll also be sending in one of my own men. You'll be able to see your son by tomorrow night if you can acquire plane tickets to somewhere near Little Port Arthur."

"Thank you, L," the man answers, and the line disconnects. Other calls come through, and he answers every single of one of them.

When he's finished, the mother of Pasha Ivanov placated as well as she can be, Quillish says, "You really intend to do this?"

He stands, back cracking. "I do," he says, knowing it's one of the stupidest ideas he's ever had.

Quillish sighs.

.

Along with the silence comes the insanity.

It's different this time. He sits huddled up in the corner, listening for any sort of sound, barely breathing so that he causes no noise himself. At all times, he has a scream built up in the back up of his throat, ready to release the moment he hears anything. The silence isn't suffocating, isn't smothering - it's a thousand times worse.

At one point he tries to stand, but falls over before he can. His mouth is dry. The silence has taken over his brain. Rather than destroy his thoughts, it replays them and he keeps feeling and remembering _everything _from start to finish, over and over. His insides are made of tar and asphalt. Something sticky and black. No one's coming to save him. There's no point anymore, anyway. How will his family ever be able to look at him?

.

L says his name is James O'Hara, flashes an ID, called ahead of time. He stands with his back uncomfortably straight and has shoes and normal clothes on. It's annoying and Quillish thinks he's insane, but that's okay. No one questions anything. One of the younger ones gives an attempt of a weak smile, but that's it. The leader of the excursion makes him put on a bulletproof vest.

Half an hour into the search and a lot of gunfire later, he stumbles upon the boy by accident. At gun point he forces the guard to open the door and then knocks him out because he's L and L doesn't kill people even during those rare moments when he wants to.

He pushes it open gently and finds the boy in the corner, surrounded by blood. It's everywhere - on the walls, on the floor, somehow even on the ceiling. Light is pale, blindfolded, in ripped clothing, literally pressed as hard against the wall as close as physically possible. The kid heard him and he should've expected this. It's a good thing L found him rather than anything else because most of the soldiers haven't seen the footage. Light is somehow manages to look even smaller in person.

As soothingly as his emotionally limited capacity can manage, he says in Japanese, "Are you Light Yagami?" The boy stays still, but he doesn't need answer. "Light, I'm not one of them. I'm getting you out of here."

Some of the tenseness leaves his shoulders, but he doesn't move. L moves slowly forward, impatient but knowing that since he can't see, for Light he can be anybody. He continues, "You don't have to say anything if you can't, but I need to pick you up to get you out of here. Will you let me do that? Just nod or shake your head."

A moment of hesitation, followed by a nod. This is probably desperation more than actual belief. Still slowly, L gets down on one knee and reaches out, gently putting his hands underneath Light's arms. The boy tenses, but lets it happen. Then, in a voice so quiet it almost didn't exist, he asks, "Who are you?"

Since he's never going to see his face and he's already given Yagami Soichiro advance notice that "one of his men" would be partaking in this trip, he answers, "L. Can you put your arms around my neck, Light?" If the boy tells later - if he even remembers - his family will think he was confused because James O'Hara saved him. It's a mean thing to do, but also seems like the fastest way to calm him down.

"L?"

"Yes, I am L."

"They said..."

He breaks out into a coughing fit but does as L asked, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his neck. Once that happens, he changes position, one arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees before picking him up. More coughing. Something wet and sticky and warm hits L's shirt and that explains all the blood near his mouth. He hopes the damage isn't permanent.

As they exit the small room, Light manages to get something out again. "My family?"

"Waiting for you in town," he answers. "We are currently in Little Port Arthur, Alaska, one of the rainiest places in North America."

Light is too skinny and small for a fourteen-year-old boy and he carries him easily, despite the shaking. Eventually they meet up with the group, each child accounted for. As he thought, Light's the only one who's been tortured. There's a general widening of eyes from everyone, but the boy can't see a thing. He quivers. Jordan McKinley, the youngest, says, "Oh my."

Yeah, that's one way to put it.

.

When Light wakes up, he's in a pitch dark room, but the feeling of the bed and the covers and the sounds stop him from having more than a few seconds of panic. There's snoring, which he knows is his dad, and the quiet hum of a heart monitor. Jeans rub together and there's a hand on his forehead. A small, soft hand. His mom's.

Very softly, she says, "You're awake," and he's pretty sure she's crying. Dazed, he nods. Then he feels the wires. There's something over his face to help him breathe. "I've missed you."

Speaking feels unfamiliar but if he could pull it off with L (who, now that he's thinking straight, probably wasn't really him though why anyone would lie about that is a mystery), he can pull it off with this family. "Why're the lights off?" he asks. His voice sounds harsh and quiet from weeks of either screaming or -

Silence. Or, lack thereof. There's _noise _here. So much noise.

And then it's like reality's set in. With what little strength he has left, he twists to his side, wraps his arms around his mom and she still smells the same too. Perhaps too tightly, she returns the hug, and everything feels all right.

Everything will be all right.

.

But it won't be! Okay, so there's one more intermittent chapter, then it starts getting into actual _Death Note. _Or, well, AU actual _Death Note. _Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

This is the sort of middle chapter, going from right when Light gets out of the hospital to when Soichiro meets L again. So, yeah, it covers a three year span. I'm also supposed to be writing an essay/studying. Neither of which I'm doing right now.

**Note:** I know it's weird, but I'm flip flopping back and forth between Light and Raito mostly because L will call him Light but people in Japan will call him Raito. Mostly because I just think Light sounds cooler.

**Warning: **Slight Light/OC but she's there for like two parts and really only exists to fill a purpose. Not a permanent character whatsoever.

Also, apparently there's another story out there that's similar to this one. I can honestly say I had no idea.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

.

For a week, Light is stuck in that Alaska hospital. For the next two, he's stuck in one in Osaka. He's unconscious most of the time in both of them, which is good because when he's awake, all he wants to do is leave.

A psychiatrist is sent in once he's in Osaka again, one that specializes in childhood kidnapping. It's hard to talk, but he makes the effort for his parents and sister. He doesn't complain about the prescription. Anything to help - anything to stop the nightmares and flashbacks and anxiety attacks is a welcome change. A doctor in the hospital also works on his eye trauma caused by wearing a blindfold for so long. Slowly, the level of brightness in the room is raised. By the end of three weeks, he can even deal with the sunlight and is given permission to go home. The relief hits him so hard it almost hurts.

Walking is hard too, he discovers quickly. He stumbles a lot and sometimes falls down, toppling as he's thrown off balance by nothing in particular. His mom (because he weighs that little now) or dad either have to help him back on his feet or, if that's too much of a strain, pick him up. It's embarrassing, but most of the time he's too tired to care. They offer to get him physical therapy on top of the mental health, but he shakes his head before reminding himself for the thousandth time that he's allowed to talk. Then he says that, no, he can do it on his own.

Within a week, it's imperfect and shaky, but he can walk without assistance. His family looks so proud that the pain is worth it.

What surprises everyone is that as long as he can see the person and it isn't too dark, he's okay with being touched. That's fine, but noises too loud, cloth too harsh, and things getting too quiet is another problem altogether. Loud noises are an issue because even though he has all five senses back and his eyesight is oddly still twenty-twenty, his hearing hasn't lose it's sensitivity. His sense of touch hasn't either and it freaks him out because he can still navigate his room in dim lighting. Quiet is obvious - when it starts reaching that silence, the panic builds up again, the suffocation comes back, he loses his ability to think. Mom and Dad always make sure there's at least some sort of sound and he quickly grows accustom to either playing music or having the television on during the rare times he's left alone.

At night when he gets a bad dream, even if he doesn't scream, either his mom or his dad will be in his room in a millisecond. His mom says it's a sixth sense all parents have and he still doesn't have cognitive function advanced enough to figure out a logical conclusion. One of them usually waits for him to go sleep too, sitting on his bed sometimes for hours and just sort of talking, not complaining when he only answers with nods and head shakes. The psychiatrist told them it'll take time - possibly up to a year - for Light to be comfortable speaking again. At the moment, he feels like he never will.

His second week home, his dad has to go back to work and Sayu to school, which he wants to do too but isn't allowed. Mom takes more time off so that he doesn't have to be alone and though he feels bad, it's a relief. The only thing that scares him more than the quiet is knowing that he's in the house alone. So far it hasn't happened and he dreads the day that it will.

One day his mom asks him, "Do you feel up to eating sashimi?"

Until now, he's been eating mostly light foods that are easy to hold down and digest, making his way up to something more solid. "I can try," he answers, stopping himself from nodding. Even though it's been five weeks, he has trouble remember when to speak. Spending so long saying nothing at all has inhibited his ability to recover.

"I'm going to make it then, rather than order," she says with a small smile. Everyone smiles at him a lot these days, even though it doesn't always look happy. "Do you want to come down with me?"

"Later," he says. "I want to take a shower."

The smile is replaced by half a second of worry before it comes back again. Though he's outwardly okay, his insides still feel of tar and he constantly feels dirty and his record is six showers in one day. His parents, inevitably, know what happened to him (even though he doesn't want them to because he never wants to mention this to anyone at all), so they don't protest much. His therapist keeps trying to get him to talk about it, but he's barely said anything. If it was up to him, he wouldn't go at all, but he's fourteen and fourteen-year-olds are stuck listening to adults.

Before leaving, his mom tells him one last thing. "Raito," she says. "When you're well enough to eat again, I'm thinking that maybe we could celebrate your birthday. Would you like that?"

He blinks. His birthday? He'd completely forgotten that it passed while he was in confinement. Though he doesn't want to because he wants to avoid anything that reminds him of those two months, he answers, "Yeah, I would."

That smile comes back. He likes it because it makes everything seem normal somehow. Like something out of a distant past. He feels like a stranger in his own house, so the warmth of his parents and his sister isn't something he fights or resents. She leans over, kissing his forehead, and stands up. "Don't take too long," she tells him, though they both know odds are he will anyway. "Your fingers will prune."

"Okay."

His mom stands, walks out of the room, and gives him one last, small smile before shutting the door.

.

Halfway through Light's fourth week back home, Soichiro sits up with his wife in bed, discussing what to do about their son. He's so different now, that old hopefulness gone, a good twenty pounds lighter, panicky and filled with nightmares. The number of showers isn't good for him, but after all he's been through - being left dirty for nearly two months, covered in blood from untreated injury, untouched by water other than submergence, and most of all the several _rapes _- it's understandable. The psychologist assures them that with time, he'll heal, but the process will be slow.

He tells Sachiko, "I think we should move. I can ask the force to transfer me to Tokyo or something."

His wife sits cross-legged, leaning against him, and he has his arm around her shoulders. The stress is greatly affecting both of them. "I know," she says softly. The size of their house means that their room is sandwiched between the children's and with Light's sudden increase in hearing sensitivity, they need to speak quietly so they aren't heard. "I'm worried about Sayu, though. Raito's never really had friends here, but she has."

This is very true. Soichiro sighs. "We'll have to talk to her about it," he says. "I just don't think Raito will be able to go back to school here and he'll hate homeschooling. At work, people will shut up when I enter a room or ask me how he is. And that's to me. Teenagers are even less discreet than adults. I know Sayu gets it too."

"She tells me about it. But she's eleven, that's young."

It's a hard decision to come to, because they can't neglect their daughter for their son. For now they're doing the best they can, but perfectly split attention isn't possible. Moving might help that. Light's already pestering them about books and learning and will he have to be held back a grade but hasn't mentioned school yet. His son scared wasn't a common occurrence before February, but now it's constant. He's afraid of so much it's hard to believe. Sometimes Soichiro feels like he's living in a horrible dream that he can't wake up from, but eventually he will and it'll be a typical weekday morning, Light and Sayu both resisting Sachiko's attempt at fussing over them.

But that isn't going to happen. There is no dream to wake up from.

"Tomorrow," Sachiko says. "We'll talk to Sayu before we talk to Raito. It's what's fair."

.

Sayu says that she doesn't mind moving as long as they don't have to live in an apartment. Light knows it's because of him and tries to protest, but it's halfhearted and lacks much effort. They find a place in Tokyo, pack all their stuff, and move.

The house is a little bigger than the last one with more counter space in the kitchen, which makes Sachiko happy. Soichiro's been transferred to the task force here, which is a lower position but has higher pay. After a discussion that was not nearly as lengthy as it should have been, the two decide that Sachiko will take a break before looking for work. For at least a little while, he can support the family on his own and having someone there for when Light gets home from school sounds like a good idea. Predictably, the moment he gets an opportunity, his son takes a shower.

"When do I get to start school again?" he asks the first night there, obviously relieved at the idea that he can just be a normal kid rather than stared at as he walks down the halls. "Soon, right?"

Sachiko answers, "You've been enrolled, so about a week." Soichiro doesn't miss the look of disappointment, which he takes as a good sign. Little by little, their Light is coming back to them. "Sayu starts tomorrow."

"Mom!"

It's a big change for all of them, but hopefully one that works.

.

During his time in confinement and then how long he spent physically healing in Osaka, he'd forgotten how to deal with people. Half an hour into his first period and already Light has to stop himself from calling his mom.

That is, until the teacher asks an equation and tells them figure it out. Whoever answers first should put up their hand and be prepared to answer. Everyone else uses scratch paper and calculators, and he receives two dozen looks of shock when his arm shoots up immediately. The uniforms are long sleeve, which is wonderful, and for a moment he feels like a normal kid. Like his old self again, except in Tokyo and unnaturally skinny. For a second there, he even forgets about the dirty feeling.

The teacher, in a state of shock, calls on him. He rattles off the answer with his old precision and suddenly he can _think _again. The haze in his brain is gone, the silence that's constantly around him disappears, and he gets the feeling that maybe he can be okay. He can deal with the nightmares and he's _here, _he's _alive_, and the bizarrely hypocritical peace activists haven't taken away his life. He's better than this. Though he doubts he'll ever be able to talk about it, he can beat it.

He has to.

.

Two days later it rains and he realizes it'll take a lot more than thinking he can do it for him to _actually _do it. He's sitting on his bed, his dad's arms wrapped around him as Light shivers and cries into his shoulder. All he wants is a shower but he feels like he's frozen, unable to walk again. It's midnight and the lights in his room are on and he can't hear the music or his own sniffles and hiccups. Fourteen-year-old boys do not cry in their dads' arms but he's pretty sure this counts as an exception.

He feels like he's dying all over again.

"You're safe, Raito," his dad says, and Light curls up tighter against his side, feeling pathetic that he's terrified over a little rain. "No one here wants to hurt you."

But it doesn't matter because he's been hurt already and it won't go away. Sometimes, after a nightmare, he still can't breath because it feels like there's water in his lungs, or all the stab marks itch and hurt, or he feels the pain of being violated all over again. He nods, whole body still quivering, because during times like this he doesn't have a capability to speak. In a way, he's surprised he can even cry.

His dad asks, "Should I go get your mom?" because she's normally the one who deals with his "episodes," as the psychiatrist put it. He shakes his head, clinging tighter, too afraid to be alone. During his time in Alaska, he never actually heard the rain, but he heard the men talk about it repeatedly and it's more because it reminds him of the waterboarding (he found out the name after a quick Google search that resulted in him throwing up what little food he had in his stomach) more than anything else.

They sit like this for maybe two hours before the rain gradually comes to a stop and Light is able relax a little. Even after he falls asleep, Soichiro stays with him for a while longer. Then, eventually, he gets up, tucks the boy in like he did when he was a child, and goes back to his room.

He leaves the light on.

.

Sayu doesn't know exactly what happened to her brother, but she knows enough. He was gone for two months and people did terrible things to him that were never explained to her. He couldn't see. When she saw him for the first time after the kidnapping, he was covered in blood. Like something from a movie, she fainted in shock. That image is something that never fully leaves her mind, haunting dreams whenever she falls back asleep after being woken up by Light screaming, or a thud coming from his room the few times he's fallen off the bed.

These instances, though, begin to lessen after a while. He slowly goes back to normal, all smarts and fast movement and everything that makes Light who he is. Except...he smiles less and shies away from people touching him and showers _a lot_. He doesn't talk as much, and he was kind of quiet to begin with. And then -

Well, then there are days Light panics because he doesn't know where he is. It'll get too dark or start to rain or he'll bump into something and his whole body will freeze up and either Mom or Dad have to come and calm him down. Times like this scare Sayu and she begins counting the days nothing happens. The first time he lasts thirty days without incident, she gives him a hug for no reason. When he hugs her back without tensing up at all, she lets herself smile and think that she might even be able to get her brother back entirely one day.

But then a year passes. His freak outs get more and more spaced out until he's able to go a whole two months without one. Mom doesn't look for work yet, but she and Dad start feeling safe leaving Light on his own. He's okay with being alone in his room with the door shut again as long as music is playing and he doesn't constantly look distracted when he helps her on her homework. She even gets him to laugh a few times.

Then one day she overhears her dad say, "I'm getting worried, Sachiko. He's bored."

"I know. The psychiatrist said to keep him interested but..."

Though Sayu knows that she should walk away, she doesn't, and stays firmly in place, trying to listen through the small crack in the door where it hadn't shut all the way.

"But he's too smart," finishes her dad. "With everything going on, I forgot that gets depressed when he doesn't have anything to do."

Light, depressed? Since when? Though, now that she thinks about it, even before her brother disappeared, there were times that they'd actual bicker and he'd get all sad and quiet. At the age of twelve, Sayu doesn't know exactly what depression is, but she knows that it's bad and Light has to take pills for it every night. Taro, who sits behind her in class, says the people who take pills are crazy, but no one's called her brother crazy. Traumatized is the word her parents used. Not crazy, but traumatized.

"I still don't think letting him work a case with you is the best option. He's fifteen and with his history, I feel like that might make him worse."

"Can you think of anything else?" Mom stays silent. Dad continues, "Look, it's just an armed robbery. No one will know he's helping the task force. I swear."

Then her mom sighs. "Fine," she says and there comes the sound of footsteps. Sayu begins to inch away. "Consider this just a trial run."

Right as she rounds the corner, the door to her parents' bedroom opens and she has to wonder how she didn't notice that something was wrong before.

.

Light loves the idea of being able to solve a case. Ever since he was a kid, he's always wanted to be a detective like his dad (or an astrophysicist because, hey, space) and he jumps on the chance immediately. Dad's relief is a little insulting, but the pride he gets on his face when the case is solved in record time makes up for it one hundred percent.

That record time being two days, of course. From there they uncover a considerably larger crime conspiracy, and Light's not allowed to work on it anymore. But it doesn't matter, doesn't matter at all.

Because of Light, an elaborate heist is stopped and the boredom drains away.

.

Eventually, Sachiko begins to look for work again. She doesn't like the idea of it, but it's been over a year and a half of watching her son get better and she thinks he can handle it. When she asks if he's okay to look after Sayu during the hour or so gap that her two children will be alone he says that it's fine, _he's _fine, didn't you notice, Mom? And though she says that she did, she doesn't really believe it.

Mother's intuition is a strong thing and she knows that he'll never really be "fine." His nightmares alone are testament to that, and there's also the very real possibility of something setting him off. It's been a while - six months, almost - but it's still there. Something like that doesn't just disappear. And she stills sees it, on occasion. The twitching when the rain starts, how he's absolutely terrified of going near the pool, according to his teachers, the way his eyes will dart around if someone turns off the light, or covers his ears when it gets too quiet. How on some days he'll shower up to three times. There's so much that her son is afraid of, which makes her afraid to let him go.

A week before her first day of work, she makes sure both her children memorize her number off the top of their heads and promise to call her if something goes wrong or if they need to know where something is. They agree, simple as that, and it isn't until later that she corners her son alone without Sayu.

"I need you to promise me that you'll call," she tells him, sitting on his bed next to him. "I've already told my boss about our...situation. If you start panicking, don't let it build. I'll come home immediately. Your dad too."

His face wipes blank when he nods and they really shouldn't have just stopped bringing this up entirely. "It's been almost two years, Mom," he answers and they all have the date ingrained in their minds. February twenty-second. Today is September fifth. "I can take being alone with Sayu for a few hours."

Experimentally, she reaches over, brushing some hair from his face. She hasn't done it since his first day back at home and he literally screamed. Later, Soichiro explain the footage and she'd already been told the medical report. What she could never get her mind around was exactly how much of her son those peace activists took with them. Now he does nothing and she feels relieved. His healing is slow, and even now, every day is progress. "Even so," she says, dropping her hand. "It's not all gone."

He looks down at his lap, away from her. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I know."

"If it rains, either you father or I will try to take the day off."

"But I can deal with that now."

"You've never been on your own during a storm." Like she expects, Light keeps his mouth shut. Against anyone else he'd argue, but he's too scared of being put back in weekly therapy to do that with her. Being a mother has its advantages. "Will you call?"

Though he's still looking down, he nods, and she knows that's the best she'll be able to get out of him.

.

Not long after Light turns sixteen, he goes on a date with a girl. Her name is Sayuri and she sits in front of him in class. She's pretty and sweet and smart but not his type of smart and he mostly says yes to her to prove to himself that he can pull this off.

They go catch a movie that isn't all that bad and walk around Tokyo in the snow. She holds hand and even though he still isn't good at the whole people touching him thing, he doesn't protest. They only have until nine because she might not have a curfew, but he does (he pretends that he doesn't get scared after dark, but that isn't true at all) so they keep checking their cell phones for the time. This is his first date ever and his first time alone outside at night since he was thirteen.

Light is polite and though he doesn't like the idea of being alone, he drops her off first. Everything is going so perfectly and then -

Then Sayuri kisses him.

The effect is instantaneous. His eyes widen, his heart rate jacks, his entire body stiffens and she pulls away quickly. He was _expecting _that, even had it as one of the reasons he came because he needs to get over it, but how badly he's shaking doesn't exactly make that seems as if it's going to happen any time soon.

"Oh my god," Sayuri says when she pulls away, "I'm so sorry. Was I - What did I do?"

_Talk_, he reminds himself because if he can speak, then he isn't having an episode, the psychiatrist said. And Sayuri is still Sayuri and he's still outside her house in Tokyo and he's still sixteen and it really shouldn't be that hard. "It's not you," he answers, trying to calm himself down. "It's just - I, um, well -"

"It's okay," she says, cutting him off and she's a smart girl so she must've connected it to something. To what, he doesn't know, and he wants to explain that it's nothing but he's currently struggling with saying just about anything right now and it won't come out. "Well, if I didn't totally fuck this up, we should do it again some time."

"Next Saturday," he says automatically, still trying to gather his thoughts into something resembling coherency. It doesn't come naturally the way it normally does. "And - sorry."

Sayuri repeats, "It's okay. Next Saturday works. I'll talk to you then."

They exchange a short, awkward hug before she heads back inside and he begins the ten minute walk home.

His parents aren't finding out about this.

.

On a Tuesday in May thirteen-year-old Sayu gets held up after class by her current events teacher. The woman is young, not long out of college, and doesn't look fully Japanese. Everyone in the class loves her.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks and the teacher shakes her head, making Sayu frown. Nonverbal answers remind her too much of Light when he first got back or even during one of his recent panic attack that got so bad she had to call her mom home from work. It's been two years, but now she's old enough to understand that her brother is never going to "get over" what happened to him.

The teacher says, "I'm supposed to teach the UN kidnapping crisis and I noticed I had a Yagami in my class. Do you have any connection to that?"

She wants to tell the woman that no, she doesn't, because that's the sort of thing Light would do but that's bad. Repression or something. So instead she answers, "Raito's my older brother."

Her teacher gives a small, sad smile. "Okay," she says. "I won't teach it then. I hope your brother's all right."

"He is," she says and stands. "Thank you."

.

Sayuri lasts for four months and they break up because she has to move away. Though he never exactly liked her in a romantic way, he's still sad about it. If she'd stayed, they probably wouldn't have ended it for a while.

For the duration of their dating period, she never really asked him any questions, though he has a sinking suspicion she Google searched his name. This is probably a good thing because the most they ever did still let him have his clothes on and the one time she saw him in short-sleeves, she never questioned anything. His parents thought she was something of a godsend because he stopped jumping if someone tried to get his attention from behind, and Sayu really liked so it really is a shame that she had to leave. He spends the rest of the day after she moved in his room doing homework.

And at eight o' three that night, the first criminal has his heart attack.

.

When L speaks to Yagami Soichiro for the second time in three years, he actually manages to smile a little. Quillish would be so proud.

"You lived in Osaka last time we spoke, Yagami-san," he says, crouching in front of the computer screen. He's already running scenarios and possibilities and methods in his head and fears that he might actually have to solve this case as a team - as in, be seen by actual people.

The man looks different. Older. More grey in his hair than last time and honestly, L can't even imagine what it must've been like dealing with the fall-out. He read the medical reports too, physically carried the kid out of there. Yagami answers, "Sachiko and I thought it was a good idea. I requested transfer and was sent to Tokyo. How have you been?"

Exchanging pleasantries isn't normally something he does, but this is a special case, L supposes. This is the first time he's ever worked with the same person twice. "Well," he says simply, not elaborating. "And yourself?"

"As well as can be expected." L bites his thumb, glancing over at the data running on one side of the screen. "I might request him to work on this case. Raito, I mean. He's young but, well, our solve rate is always faster when he helps."

This genuinely catches him off guard. "He helps you solve cases?"

"Sometimes. He gets bored easily if he isn't challenged and we originally just wanted to avoid him getting more depressed. Now he's just good at it."

By the time L was seventeen (which Light now is as of six days ago), he'd solved nine major world cases and his insignia became an internationally known symbol. Age doesn't bother him. What bothers him is knowing that he'll be working with a kid whose life he saved. That's another thing he's had yet to encounter. "I look forward to working with you, Yagami-san," he says, hoping the pause wasn't too noticeable.

They go back to discussing the case and eventually exchange the mandatory farewells before L disconnects the line. This case, if possible, just became considerably more interesting.

.

"Wait," Light says, for the first time in his life actually interrupting his dad. "Did you just say I'd be working with L? As in personally?"

Logically, he knows he shouldn't be this excited. He's seventeen and he's never felt this about anything that he can remember. Thankfully, he's able not to show it too much, but some slips out anyway. Uncharacteristically. He doesn't feel so in control of himself right now and that's not a feeling he likes.

His dad smiles and answers, "Yes. Personally. And I'm sure I don't need to say this, but no one can know."

No one can know. Right, that. He can deal with that. He doesn't exactly give up his secrets all that easily. "Okay," he says and refrains from asking _when_. While, yeah, the prospect of working with L - being on of the few people who will actually know who he is, sort of - is amazing, it's also a potential "catalyst" to one of his "episodes." Or at least that's what Dad's thinking. And because he knows this, he adds, "I'll be fine."

No one's home but the two of them and it won't be long before Sayu comes back from her friend's house. "I know, Raito," his dad says. "I know you are. But I'm a father. Let me worry."

It's a bullshit reasoning, but Light won't call him out on it. It's been three years and how often he has to says that he's _fine _is repetitive. Sure, he still has his moments, but he isn't the way he used to be. And he just turned seventeen less than a month ago - he should have some say in whether or not his parents need to worry. Even so, he gives another "okay" because he doesn't want to argue.

After all, he gets to meet L tomorrow.

.

Okay! So, next chapter starts with tomorrow, and it'll stop being such big time skips and probably only told in L and Light's point of view. And yes, for those of you who have missed it, this will, in fact, be slash. I'm also really excited because I get to work with flashbacks now that I go more in-depth

Reviews are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delayed reply! Finals week was hell. But on a brighter note, I saw _The Hobbit_ at the midnight premier and my friend got me a _Hobbit_ shirt for Chanukah! Absolutely brilliant movie. Loved it.

**Warning: **OOC on Light, but keep in mind how different the situation is. And a lack of honorifics because I forget to use them a lot.

**Note: **I get really fucked up when I write before one in the morning, so let's see how this goes. Also, since Kira _isn't _Light, Kira isn't going to be as much of a genius. I have a way to balance it out though.

**Other Note: **This story might get fluffy. Or really disturbing. Or both. Probably the third one. The picture's been changed too.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

.

"Yes, I am L."

Light feels his heart stop, unable to think straight because even if the Western accent he had last time is now suspiciously gone, he hasn't forgotten that voice. Everyone in the task force is there, all of them know what he went through when he was fourteen, and everyone knows not to mention it around him, so it's understandably kind of a surprise when he says, "So it was _really _you?"

_English_, he thinks. _It was an English accent._

L tilts his head ever so slightly to side and it feels like it's just the two of them and (the silence is still gone but he gets this wordless thought in the back of his mind that it won't continue this way forever) he's so surprised he doesn't know what say. "Lying did not seem appropriate at that time," the older man answers and it's somewhat amazing that even after three years, he remembers that voice perfectly.

Then again, forgetting the repeated "You're safe now, Light" would be a tad strange. "Thank you," he says, still trying to get his mind around the fact that he's standing in the same room as L, the world famous detective and the man who made sure he was delivered to the ambulance while simultaneously calming him down, is difficult to compute. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Something tells Light that statement isn't something particularly familiar. "You may come in."

He steps aside and one by one the task force enters and the tension is awkward but somehow Light himself doesn't feel uncomfortable at all. Which is weird because even though he's wildly popular in school he's always felt out of place. And suddenly...not so much.

It feels amazing.

L continues, "I believe Kira is either a student who does not attend cram school or an adult working a job with regular hours and a lot of free time."

"So he's a recluse?" Matsuda says, missing the point entirely.

Though he feels the twitch to answer, he doesn't. "Mostly likely not," L says. "Kira is not going to fit the profile of a normal serial killer."

"More of an H.H. Holmes than Alexander Pichushkin," Light says, feeling the compulsive need to prove to L that he _should _be here even though he's seventeen and the man knows up close and personal what happened even more so than his family. And he swears his dad rolls his eyes.

"Yes," the detective answers blankly and Light is is aware that the comment was stupid but at least he got a positive response. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut unless addressed. It reduces the possibility of him seeming like an idiot for one of the first times in his life. "The greatest challenge will be finding out how he causes those heart attacks from a distance, but that will be simpler if we catch him first. Look into that, but the main focus at this point in time will be narrowing his profile and location further. His target victims have already been known since the beginning."

They begin to discuss the case a while longer and his mind has gone into overdrive, already trying to process all the information, mapping out calculations and possibilities. His dad occasionally shoots him quick glances, probably concerned about his quietness. He's already made it known that he thinks working on this case might be a trigger and he's been trained by now to say something at least occasionally. Though he understands why, it isn't exactly something Light finds easy, especially in situations that he's thrown off balance from his usual comfort level.

At the end, L hands out false IDs to everyone but him since he's technically not supposed to be here in the first place and says, "Outside of this room, you will refer to me as Ryuzaki. We'll meet tomorrow."

And just like that it's over. Abrupt and almost casual though L somehow manages to hold a borderline emotionless tone the entire way through. It's obvious that everyone's a little taken aback as they give their string of goodbyes and let themselves out. Just as he and his dad reach the door, the detective asks, "Light, may I speak with you for a moment?"

It's been a long time since he's heard his name's English pronunciation and his dad eyes him cautiously. Honestly, even though he understands it, he's sick of all the worrying. And he hates himself for _making _his family have to keep on being so patient with him. "I'll meet you outside in a minute," he tells him and slips back inside alone. L isn't looking at him, crouched in that weird position of his in front of his laptop, typing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the man answers, still not looking at him. For some reason, he doesn't have as much of a problem with it that he normally does. "I'm just wondering why you didn't speak despite having something to say."

_Dad must have told him something_, he thinks but doesn't say it. "I thought I should just listen this time around," he tells him and they both know he's lying.

"But you knew what I had to say the moment I presented the information?"

"Yeah, I did." He's starting to get twitchy and self-conscious from the emotionless tone. "Um, is there anything else?"

L still doesn't look up. "That is all," he says. "You may leave."

It's not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be, this dismissal. So he sends a short small smile (because that's what he's retaught himself to do for the past three years even though sometimes it's a struggle he doesn't win) and backs out of the room until he meets up with his dad. Immediately, he asks, "How are you doing?"

It's been three years and wants everyone to stop caring so much but he can't make it stop despite that fact that he hasn't suffered from a major episode in the past eight months. "Fine," he answers and means it. "I just didn't feel like talking. That's what he was asking me about."

"Well that's nice of him," says his dad, but he sounds a little distracted and they start heading towards the car. "Look, Raito, I know you're doing all right now, but if the case starts to get too hard for you, just tell me. No one will think badly of you."

He knows this and that's part of the problem. Again, it's been three years. It would be easier handling all of this if everyone just let him do it himself. "I will," he says, though he won't because nothing will happen. "I've been doing well with that, right?"

"Yes." His dad opens the car and Light slips into the passenger seat, glad to be going home because he still has homework to finish and he's tired. "And, this is the last thing, I swear," he adds. The car's cold, the heat not yet kicked on. "I know you can do it. I won't pull you out if you have a bad patch now and then unless you think you need it. You've been great lately."

Sudden outbursts of praise aren't something Light's used to, so he just sort of blinks. "Okay," he says. "Thanks."

And he means that, too. It's a bit of a relief, knowing that a single screw up won't mean going to back to being just a normal high school student. Even though it's been eight months since his last episode, he's had a few nightmares and it's still a struggle sometimes not to take more than a shower or two a day, which is something he finds annoying about himself. Three years as of two weeks ago and he hadn't even had a panic attack on the twenty-second. By this point he should be _over _all of it. Especially since he's still medicated. That, at least, is something he grudgingly admits that isn't going anyway any time soon.

.

L, for the most part, stopped caring about those involved with the case once said case was solved. But for some reason, he would, on occasion, wonder how the Yagami boy was doing. Finding out that he hasn't, well, ended up in an asylum or committed suicide is a bigger relief that he expected. He looks recovered too - a little on the thin side and tired, but not unhealthy. And not covered in blood, which is certainly a change.

If he's honest with himself, he's more than just a little bit curious as to how working with the boy will be. At fourteen, he proved himself a genius and L has already looked into the cases Light - or, as it's pronounced here, Raito, but Light is the name he can't get out of his head - helped solve, and found the record impressive. Had situations been different, he might've been in line to be his heir. That sharp intellect he saw while Light wasn't talking must be incomparable to the times that he does. Maybe showing himself isn't such a rotten idea after all.

For now he sits in his usual position in front of his laptop, poking around all the pro-Kira sites and discussion boards on whether or not what the serial killer does is ethical. To L, the obvious answer is that it's horribly unethical because there's no legal system involved and not all incarcerated criminals actually committed the crimes they were accused of, but he can't pretend to understand the thought processes of humans with low intelligence. And that's why the idea of working with Light is so interesting - the boy's a genius, so he might actually be able to have a conversation.

Unless L sets off a flashback, that is. He doesn't even pretend that isn't a real possibility.

"Do you think this is wise?" asks Quillish from behind him, his reflection on the laptop screen throwing his nose terribly out of proportion. Maybe L should turn the light on every once in a while. "You do have final say."

"It will be all right," he answers, flipping through recent posts of a pro-Kira Facebook page. As usual, it's just another fan-page. Though he doubts he'll find the answer by simply looking online, all possibilities must be looked at and analyzed. "If I show any bias towards the boy, it will because of his intellect rather than the peace activist case."

Though Quillish still looks wary, he gives a slight nod. "Just be careful," says the man.

This gets L to turn around. He looks over, head cocked to one side in confusion and he isn't often confused. "Excuse me?"

"Just...be careful."

Normally the man isn't this cryptic but L knows if he presses, Quillish won't answer and that Facebook page is beckoning him, so he turns around and tries to ignore the disquiet in his mind.

.

It takes less than a week for L and Light to tag-team together. Most likely Quillish disapproves but they work well enough as a pair that there's no room to debate. This case needs to be solved as quickly as possible and if this is the fastest way, then he's not going to debate whether or not being this close helps the boy's mental health.

Besides, as of right now, he seems perfectly fine.

"How the _hell _is he doing this?" Matsuda says at one-sixteen in the afternoon in an outburst of utter frustration. Criminals have been dying every hour on the hour since midnight in more ways than just a heart attack and L is sick of it already. Kira is toying with them, making the profile harder to figure out.

Rather than answer, Light says, "The letter is coded!" and draws the attention away from from the oddity of the new killing pattern instantaneously "Look," he continues, projecting the image on the big screen and highlighting the coded area.

_Did you know_ it reads and the detective knows that there will be more letters completing the sentence soon enough. "Kira's taunting us," says Yagami, one eyebrow twitching. As of now, L is his normal self but the members of the task force are already wearing down. Criminals with this audacity are always annoying.

Yet this gives L hope. The method is still open ended, but the chance of this being an adult has increased by five percent, leaving it as a total of twenty point eight and growing. He bites his thumb nail, black eyes focused on the screen. Mogi asks, "Should we search for someone with computer experience?"

Before he can, Light answers, "He wouldn't make his knowledge this obvious if computer experience is documented." Then he face loses some color and he looks over to L. "Sorry, is that right?"

"Yes," he agrees. "We will no longer record our progress and findings on the computer. Kira knows how to hack."

"So how do we know who to look for?" Matsuda says.

"Someone who works with composition," he answers. "The handwriting and wording suggest a man or woman who knows how to write well, most likely educated in that area of study. Perhaps a Japanese major." Light, like he, has already jumped on this information. Unfortunately to search, they need a database but that history is harder to track. He should have anticipated this earlier and is angry with himself for this glaring oversight. "Begin working on the transfer to notebooks. Delete the information on the computers once finished."

By this point, no one questions his orders though he notices that Light doesn't stop what he's doing. L doesn't protest and joins, running separate information through a different database because two is faster than one and he needs someone who can read quicker than the average man. The rest of the task force are already aware that they are not on the same level as the two of them and it bothers some but there's no room for argument.

It _is _true, after all. After a moment, the boy says, "Sixty hundred thousand, five hundred, eighty-nine results."

"Two hundred thousand, nine hundred, fifty results," L says a moment later and looks at his unofficial partner. "At this time we cannot narrow the search further except compare the two."

Light nods and no worried look comes from his father. Slower than he'd like to admit, L is beginning to understand. After the boy returned, he wasn't allowed nonverbal responses which must have been very irritating. He uses a connector cable to sync the two searches despite how outdated the method is and the two wait. How long it takes is not liked by either genius.

Not long after the process starts, Light begins to fidget. For the twenty-seventh time this week, L briefly wonders if the brunette has the possibility of being Kira, but squashes the thought. Even though he fits the model in many ways - a high school genius with access to the police databases, connection to the case, faced horrendous crime as a victim, the image of perfection for those who don't know what happened, a strong sense of justice - the detective knows that it can't be him. Psychologically he's so far from the irregular profile that it just isn't possible.

And no, this isn't the bias Quillish believes is possible. It's logical in every way and could not have possibly manifested this rapidly. Not in one week.

End result is two hundred thousand, two hundred, twenty possible suspects. Much too large for L to be comfortable with but at the moment there's nothing he can do. This uncertainty is difficult to deal with but he knows that this case will not be solved as quickly as he'd like. Kira can kill with just a face and a name and control the actions of the victims as well as time of death. There is nothing normal about this in the slightest.

The two of them join the group effort of hand documenting and computer removal and around nine they begin nearing completion. Since he can end on his own and even his socially inept self can acknowledge that the others have families (okay, Quillish is the one who pointed this out but no one needs to know that), he dismisses them. Light's head immediately snaps up from what he's doing and he says, "I'm in the middle of something!"

But his dad is already putting on his coat. "You have homework, Raito," the man says and though L knows it would be useful, the alone time will be helpful as well and there's more behind it than simply school. On Tuesday Yagami explained that Light is on a relatively strict schedule with his medication because of the sleeping pills. For a split second, the boy makes an expression that causes him to look so much like normal teenager that it catches L off guard. Then it's gone a moment later and he looks like his typical, mature self.

Even by L's standards, he's noticing too much.

"I'll see you on Friday," Light tells him, standing and on Thursdays he has cram school. It's inconvenient but unavoidable. The problems with working with a high school student.

Father and son slip away, out the door, and L finishes up alone.

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They work weekends and he knows Mom doesn't like it, but they're trying to solve a case involving a serial killer and it's inevitable. But she understands, so even though it makes him feel guilty when they come home at ten to a cooling dinner they have to heat up in the microwave, it's all right.

Or that's what he _wants _to say. Because the thing is that she acts like everything's okay but then there are time when his parents apparently forget that he can hear a lot better than he could as a kid and his dad thinks a plywood door ten feet away is enough to block out the sound for him. It's muffled of course, but clear enough that he can hear one end of the conversation.

"Don't worry," he hears and his hand stalls on the mouse pad of his computer, "I'm watching him. If anything goes wrong, I'll pull him out of the investigation." Again, Light is sitting next to L as they search, not speaking, and the detective is closer than he is to the door, which means he can hear too. He goes back to what he's doing, purposely avoiding looking anywhere that isn't his computer screen. His dad isn't speaking loudly but the door is plywood, which isn't thick at all. "Sachiko, I wouldn't let him work here if I didn't think he could do it. He's come a lot farther than you're giving him credit - Yeah, I know. I'll send him home early because I might have to pull an all-nighter...I love you too."

Light knows that he shouldn't let this get to him but he does anyway. It certainly doesn't help that L definitely heard because he's trying to look as normal as possible. Or, well, about as normal as a seventeen-year-old genius with a history of working on solving crimes can be. His dad reenters the room a moment later and tries to shoot him a smile that he pretends not to see. For all his excellent acting skills, he doesn't think he can return the smile right now without it looking fake.

Suddenly he gets distracted, a possibility falling into place in his mind and he looks over to L. "Could he be a teacher or professor?" he asks because anything to narrow down that two hundred thousand sounds like a good idea.

"More likely a teacher than a professor," L answers, scribbling something down. Maybe it's just because Japanese isn't his first language as evident by looks alone, but his handwriting is chicken-scratch. "A university professor's hours would allow for a more irregular time span than Kira's first two weeks of killing."

"A lot high schools have a criminal justice course," Light says, "and the teacher probably has to have some skill with composition to get the position."

Before he's even finished speaking, the detective is already revising the search and his sitting position makes typing look really uncomfortable. Increasing his cognitive ability by forty percent? Light's willing to believe that a lot of what he says it right, but that seems a little far-fetched. "The probability is low," he says. "Six percent, but it's enough to narrow down the results. Forty-seven percent chance if the classification is teachers overall."

Unsurprisingly, the number gets cut down by more than half by simply searching teacher. The number is still high, but they're working for anything right now and nothing new has come in. Since Wednesday, sixty-four kills have been made worldwide, including four who had been released from incarceration and one who escaped trial in America because one of the witnesses was apparently racist against Caucasians, which wasn't something often heard of on international television. Or anywhere, really.

The time on the computer reads _8:08_ and Light knows he probably doesn't have much longer so he tries to speed up his weeding out process. Next to him L adds his fourth sugar cube to his coffee and though he knows he's strange for liking his black in the morning, that many seems excessive. Then again, nearly everything the man does is excessive and his fixation with sweets combined with how thin he is and a lack of diabetes proves that the human body does not work in a singular, uniform way. He runs his fingers through his hair, momentarily messing up its perfection, but it flops back into place.

Around nine, L says, "I can take over the rest if you'd like to go home, Light," which he thinks is supposed to take away from him feeling bad about leaving early but doesn't work. He finished his homework in an hour this morning, doesn't have to take his medication until eleven, and knows that he's mostly going home for his mother's sake. Though he understands, he still thinks that his parents haven't processed the fact that he's _seventeen. _That's practically an adult.

"Right," he answers as his dad calls him over, reminding everyone that he might be the smartest among the actual task force, but he's still a kid. It isn't something he likes to think about. He gives a small, half-second smile before putting down his pen and leaving.

And even after a week and a half, he still manages to be embarrassed.

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I was going to write more, but I have to write my friends' holiday/birthday presents too. Also, I'm doing that horrible thing where I'm planning which means all I want to do is hurry and get to the actual pairing stuff. Also, I'm going to reread _Death Note _maybe because I have free time. Review please!


	4. Chapter 4

So, chapter four! It's taking so much effort not to just rush into anything, something I've seriously never had a problem with before.

Also, review people. It's excellent motivation. Please?

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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It's an awkward place to have this discussion, but since the Kira investigation began, Light's been having a hard time getting his dad to pay attention despite him also being an active member of the case. And it's because of this that the two of them end up in a currently deserted hallway not to far away from their off-the-books headquarters.

Bluntly, he tells him, "I want to go off the sleeping pills."

For a moment, his dad just looks at him in surprise. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he says finally and Light has to bite his cheek to stop himself from interrupting. Normally he doesn't have this much trouble but he can tell that his involvement in the case is harder on his parents than it is on him. "You still get nightmares."

"Exactly," he says, hating that he has to use this as a reason. "They haven't really been helping me for the past year and I was thinking of just trying melatonin or something. The pills are making it hard for me to wake up."

"What brought this on?"

He brushes his hair from his face, trying to keep calm because he's been getting worse at that lately. "I haven't had to concentrate on anything in a while," he answers. "School's easy and when I work on cases I normally take myself off of that for a day or -"

"Raito!"

"It's only the sleeping pills," he says quickly, but the disapproval face doesn't go away. "I'll talk to my psychiatrist first, but I just don't think I need them anymore."

He's given The Look, the one patented by parents who are wary of their children's choices and he hasn't gotten one of these since he was a kid. "If he says you don't need it, then I have no argument. If he says that you do, I want you to promise to keep taking them."

A while ago, the psychiatrist told him that if he didn't think his medication was working, then they could figure something out. So, logically, if he said he wanted off, then he'd be taken off. "Okay," he agrees because a negotiation is the best he's going to get.

With a quiet sigh, his dad claps his shoulder and leads him away, off towards the investigation room. He's tired from waking up from his worst nightmare in a while while still under the effects of the pills. L shoots him a look as he flops in front of a computer screen, which is surprising because he's generally too focused on the task at hand. Three weeks have passed and though Light doesn't want to admit it, solving the case will be bitter sweet. The two don't talk much but when they do, he can talk on his level of thinking that no one understands and for the first time ever, he automatically trusts someone. But stopping a serial killer is more important he knows it and, again, it's not like they talk much anyway.

As the night draws closer to an end, though, he always wishes that they did. Sure, his dad has the final say on the grounds of parental superiority, but he's found that L's pretty apt at swaying opinion. His medication isn't here and he acknowledges that for the most part his sanity would be gone without it, he wants some backup. Everyone else - including Matsuda, even - has pulled at least one late shift and _yes _he's a seventeen-year-old student and _yes _he's not quite right in the head, but it still makes him feel as if he isn't putting in his full effort. And it's conceited and arrogant to think (and three years ago taught him that there's nothing to be arrogant about because at night he still feels hands and sees nothing) but he really is leagues ahead of everyone.

Everyone but L.

It takes Light a minute or so to realize L is blatantly staring him and when he finally does glance over, he almost falls out of his seat. Those wide black eyes, he discovers, can be even more disconcerting than he already thought.

"What?" he says, genuinely confused. Sure, he disappeared for a bit, but the detective has the social skills of a misbehaved rabbit, so odds are that he hadn't noticed anything.

And naturally Light is wrong because even geniuses, on occasion, are incorrect. "Something happened to distract you," says the man, straightforward and toneless.

Light glances over at his dad who's scolding Matsuda over something again. This is the closest they'd come to a real argument for the first time ever. He's always been a good kid, so there's never been reason for real disagreement before. Looking back at his computer screen, he answers, "Nothing. I just have a headache."

"Perhaps you should go home."

He feels his hand twitch. "I'm fine," he says. "It'll go away soon."

Though L nods, Light can tell he doesn't believe him. Even he admits that it's a pretty transparent lie and that doesn't happen often. Since he's always been conscious of both his family and his teachers worrying about him, it's a skill he's had to practice a lot. Smile when he's stressed, tell the psychiatrist what he wants to hear.

At least he finally got himself out of therapy.

Nine's always been his curfew because he's admittedly terrified of being alone at night to the point that he doesn't go to cram school more than once a week, and it's never really bothered him until this case. And, specially, at moments like this. Moments like now, at eight fifty-six on a Tuesday night.

"Light," L says suddenly, causing him to look over from what he's doing. "I found something you should take a look at."

The lighting in the hotel room is dim and his eyes hurt. "What is it?" he asks, standing and moving so he's looking over the man's shoulder. He smells like strawberry shortbread, which isn't surprising. The screen shows the records of the first twenty-nine criminals.

"I was reviewing the files on the trails," L explains, "and all of them tried to plead insanity in court but were denied. The last four aren't Japanese."

Getting a lot of this information involved exploiting loopholes despite it being police-run, and trial case films were among the hardest things to acquire. "How long does the pattern continue?" he asks and hears his dad before he sees him. The clock reads _9:06_.

"You two just found something new, didn't you?" he says, the exhaustion in his voice making Light feel instantly guilty. Again, he thinks that his involvement in this case might be harder on his parents than it is on him.

"Yes, Yagami-san," L answers for him.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out another sigh before saying, "You can stay until at least eleven, Raito," and it takes a lot of self-control for Light not to smile. "Just this once."

"Thank you," he says, and means it. "I'll keep an eye on the time."

"Just get as much work done as you can."

His dad wanders off, back to where he was originally, and everything about this case is etched into each step. Light feels bad, but maybe his parents are finally starting to realize he can deal with a lot more than they think he can.

L picks up right where they left off and says, "It becomes more sporadic after the first twenty-nine."

"Does he ever kill any criminals in an asylum?"

"No. We need to run another filter, Light."

He slips back in front of his computer, editing the original search to anyone involved in psychology, leaving the teachers separate. "Do you think the first few were pity kills?" he asks, printing the list so he can delete it.

"It's certainly a possibility," L answers, doing something can't see. He's biting his thumb nail again. "I believe we need to revise Kira's profile."

"Yeah," he says, and looks over at his dad and the others ago. "Shouldn't we tell them?"

L follows his gaze. Both he and Light were serious about solving this case, but neither looked as somber as the task force. "Later," the detective answers, causing him to wonder if he's the only one actually told anything around here. "I think the two of us can begin while they stay busy, Light."

Before he can stop himself, he asks, "Why do you call me Light?" L looks over at him, nonverbally questioning him and he somewhat misses being allowed to do that. "I mean - everyone calls me Raito, and you use an honorific for everybody else."

Those eyes really do have the capability to be the creepiest things ever. There's no way he blinks the same number of times that a normal human being has to. "Does that bother you, Raito-kun?"

"Nevermind," he says, shaking his head. It doesn't sound right when the man says it for some reason. "No, I don't mind it. I was just wondering is all."

He goes back to biting his thumb nail and focuses on the sheet of names and occupations. "When I think of you, you're Light, not Raito," L answers simply.

"Okay."

Normally he's better at thinking of something to say, but he's coming up with nothing. There are many implications there; most notably, that the detective has thought of him at some point between three years ago and now. He isn't entirely sure how he feels about this because he doesn't _want _to be thought of that blood soaked kid who'd barely weighed ninety pounds and had -

They spend the next two hours writing up separate profiles to fit their new filters and finally told the task force. The rest are given the job of making up a fake, legitimate-sounding one to be posted on the computer for the hacker to find. Lull Kira into a false sense of security is the desired effect. Hopefully the killer will get careless, though no one's entirely sure it will work. Whether it's intelligence or luck or divine intervention, there have been no slip ups they can discover so far.

Around ten forty-five everyone leaves and Light, since he and his dad made an agreement, makes no argument.

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By now, Light can normally deal with the rain. He's been alone during storms, has gotten caught in them outside and it still freaks him out but he has that fear controlled. He recognizes it as silly and stupid and pointless, so he contains it. That is, of course, until he's caught unaware and has a sheet of water pouring from the doorway pour right on top of him.

Like an idiot, he screams and jumps back inside, spitting out the water that had gotten in his mouth. He sees his dad wave the rest of the task force to leave as he follows Light, who's starting to hyperventilate. His vision is going in and out like he's about to faint but he feels the rough cloth of the blindfold around his eyes. Someone touches his shoulder and he shrinks away before he can see again and he finds that it's just his dad, standing there with his arm stretched out.

Tentatively, he asks, "Can you see me right now?" and Light nods, shaking horribly. His dad is rummaging through his pockets. "Fuck, I left the lorazepam in the car."

He can feel (the water filling his lungs, the struggle to breathe and) the panic attack coming on and he's been going on a pretty good streak these past eight months. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. "Raito, we need to go to the car. It's not far away."

He shakes his head and hugs himself, instinctively closing in on himself. Talking is a sign that he isn't having an episode and he struggles until he manages to get out, "I can't."

"Raito -"

"I'm trying really, really hard just to be here right now," he says and then silence swallows his voice. It's suffocating (and comfortable, wrapped around him as a bubble of protection) and whatever his dad says next he doesn't quite catch.

Suddenly it's too _loud_ but he's too afraid to move and cover his ears but he's aware enough of the present to know that it's his dad whose arms are around him, trying to sync their breathing. He feels lightheaded and dizzy and doesn't notice that he's stopped breathing entirely. Whatever his dad is saying is completely lost on him but he knows it's directed towards someone else.

Then he falls back into reality and hears Watari's voice say, "It's not supposed to stop until three in the morning if you would like him to stay here for the night. You're to be coming back tomorrow in the morning anyway."

Slowly, he begins to get the air back into his lungs but it's hard. This wasn't quite an episode, but something close. His dad is shaking, which means he's scaring more than just himself. "Will that be all right?"

"Perfectly so, Yagami-san. Ryuzaki and myself will keep him awake until you return with his medication."

His dad reluctantly lets go of him and he almost falls over, legs muscles momentarily forgetting how to work. Watari catches him by the arm and really is a testament to how far he's come that he doesn't freak out. His half-flashback is already fading but he can't stop shaking and he feels dazed. Again, his dad says something that he doesn't hear and the old man leads him towards the elevator. For a moment he wonders how he and L knew what was going on before he remembers that surveillance cameras are everywhere.

Watari goes with him in the elevator, even though it would be easier for him to stay downstairs and Light's mind isn't working well enough to formulate a thank you. His mind isn't working to the point that he doesn't feel the inevitable embarrassment and the panic has been numbed over with the normal aftermath apathy.

He goes out again for a moment and when his vision comes back, he's standing in the hotel room with Watari gone and he and L alone. The detective is standing up, hovering like he's worried without actually looking concerned. Some of the shaking has gone down, but hasn't disappeared entirely.

"You should sit down," L tells him and he still can't speak, so he nods, dazed, and lets the man plop him down on the couch. From in here he can't hear the rain and the ability to breathe is steadily coming back to him. "Can you see me?"

This is the standard question his family asks, and Light has to wonder if it's coincidence or something his dad told him. Again, he nods because speaking takes too much effort. The accent he heard three years ago is creeping back into L's voice.

It must be at least ten minutes before he can finally muster up the ability of form words and sentences and L must be getting annoyed by this point. "Sorry," he says, and he's not used to apologizing to anyone who isn't his family and they tell him repeatedly not to apologize for something that isn't his fault (even though it is because he's seventeen and he should be _over _this). "Rain - well, I don't do well with it."

"Would working on the case help you take your mind off it?" L asks and he's nearly calmed down now. Eight months. All it took was a rainstorm and eight months of progress disappeared. "Light?"

He looks up at the detective who's standing over him and now the embarrassment hits. All he wants to do is curl up in a ball and become invisible. Or go home, but he knows himself well enough that even though his mind is perfectly aware that the feeling is illogical, he's still going to panic the moment he goes out in the rain. Maybe if he got some lorazepam in him but it's a good thing his dad hadn't left him by himself while he went to the car to get the medication. Being alone would've just made it worse.

Before he can actually answer, L grabs his arm and half drags him over to the computers, where he's made to sit again. His head feels fuzzy and he can't concentrate on anything. But the silence is threatening him and he needs to do something about it, so he and L begin to work on where they left off. L's talking to him, which takes more words than the detective usually says, and he's hearing without really listening. His mind's all glazed over (and there's water in his lungs because he can't hold his breath forever) and he can't concentrate, which hasn't happened in _eight months_. Dad's going to kill him.

Eventually Watari comes back with the medication. Alone. This should bother Light but doesn't because he wants to be by himself right now. And since he can't be by himself and he definitely can't go outside until this clears up, he feels better sticking it out here without seeing the disappointed looks of his family members. He's slipping away again, but has enough left to take the lorazepam held out to him.

It takes a good fifteen minutes, but when he finally snaps out of it, it's sudden. He blinks, looks around and finds L staring at something in a book, crouching in his normal position, and Watari off somewhere he can't see. From in here, he can't hear the rain.

He repeats, "Sorry about this," causing L to look up. There's a headache forming. "That...hasn't happened in a while."

"You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," says the man and the hint of the accent is gone again. "It's understandable."

Having a psychiatrist or family say that he has PTSD is one thing, but hearing the world's greatest detective call him crazy is another matter all together. "Yeah," he says, the word coming out as little more than a mumble. "My dad might pull me from the case for this."

"I hope not."

"Why?"

"Because you're my first friend, Light."

L, by this point, is looking away again and Light's eyes widen in surprise. Friend? He's actually thought of as a _friend_? And, to top it off, a _first _friend? He isn't entirely sure how to react. "You too," he says, because it's true, and goes back to working. And before the two of them shut up altogether, he adds, "Thank you."

In his peripheral vision, he sees L's lips tilt up into a small, closed-mouth smile.

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At seven in the morning, Light walks out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair with the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He shoots L a smile that makes it look like nothing happened the night before and teenagers really do confuse him. Actually, people in general do.

"I'm fine, Dad," the boy is saying. "Seriously. School's four blocks from here and I'll just skip cram - Right, okay. I'll stop by before I go home."

He hangs up, slipping his phone back into the pocket of the uniform pants he was wearing yesterday. This morning he looks more normal than he had the night before, more put together. As recluse, L has never actually witnessed anyone having an episode before and he wonders what it was like when Light first came back. Last night seemed bad enough to him, but Yagami treated it as if he'd seen much worse. The brunette asks, "Where do I put the towel?"

"Put it on the chair," he answers and the boy follows orders. Either he or Watari will deal with it later. "You are not coming back later?"

As Light pulls on his jacket, he says, "I want to, but I have a psychiatry appointment. Doubt yesterday will help my case, but I can hope."

After working for so long with a partner, it will feel strange to do so alone. The rest of the task force will be there, of course, but their intellect even collectively is dull in comparison. "When do you leave for school?" he asks.

"About half an hour," Light says. "It's actually closer to here than it is my house."

"If we ever stretch late into the night, you're welcome to stay here," he tells the boy before wondering where that came from in the first place. He's _L_. He doesn't need anyone but Watari and himself. But here he is anyway, inviting a seventeen-year-old to stay in his makeshift living quarter. His own change is unnerving. "Also, if you would like coffee, there's some in the kitchen."

Light disappears but comes back a moment later with an apple and a mug of coffee. "Do you ever sleep?" he says, taking a seat next to him and he normally doesn't put up with this sort of proximity.

"On occasion." Unlike his friend, he doesn't suffer from nightmares; he just doesn't like being counterproductive. "Do you sleep without medication?"

His reply is a shrug which means nothing at all. "Haven't tried," he explains. "When I was a kid I had trouble sleeping, though."

To L, he still is a kid though maybe that's unfair. Seven years isn't a terribly big difference, after all. He bites his thumb and checks the time. The sunlight streams in through the now-open curtains, the window still splattered with water. The storm had been a bad one and it's probably a good thing that Light hadn't left. Fleetingly, he thinks back to Little Port Arthur and that puddle he walked through the size of a pond. Of course, the teenager has no recollection of this but he does.

Eventually, Light puts his mug in the sink and throws out the rest of his apple before saying goodbye.

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I'm sorry this is so short and...rushed. I'm working on different stories for my friends' Christmas presents. Review please! It'll get better, I swear.


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